over among the cows, Maurteen Cavanaugh, the schoolmasther—a cross-faced, argifying ould man he was—conthradicted Darby pint blank. “Stay a bit,” says Maurteen, catching Darby by the coat-collar. “You forget about the little fairy cobbler, the Leprechaun,” he says. “You can’t deny that to catch the Leprechaun is great luck entirely. If one only fix the glance of his eye on the cobbler, that look makes the fairy a presner—one can do anything with him as long as a human look covers the little lad—and he’ll give the favours of three wishes to buy his freedom,” says Maurteen.
At that Darby, smiling high and knowledgeable, made answer over the heads of the crowd.
“God help your sinse, honest man!” he says. “Around the favours of thim same three wishes is a bog of thricks an’ cajoleries and con-ditions that’ll defayt the wisest.
“First of all, if the look be taken from the little cobbler for as much as the wink of an eye, he’s gone forever,” he says. “Man alive, even when he does grant the favours of the three wishes, you’re not safe, for, if you tell anyone you’ve seen the Leprechaun, the favours melt like snow, or if you make a fourth
